Every Day Thoughts May
by MissJayne
Summary: A series of oneshots and drabbles about the friendships between our favourite characters.
1. May 1

_A/N:_ _For Intro, please see Every Day Thoughts January._

Every Day Thoughts: May

_**May 1**_

**For you are the first friend I ever had, and the best friend I ever can have, and nobody can respect you and love you too much to please me. – Charles Dickens**

Tony watched his partner from behind his desk. They were the only people left in the squad room after a long day.

She was busying herself with preparations for a date she was about to leave for. Tony had known Marcus Bent for years, ever since they had been partners at Baltimore. The man lived up to his name and was known for having a series of lovers on the go at the same time, each oblivious to the others.

When Marcus had crossed their path on a recent case, Tony had not been happy. He had half suspected Marcus of having killed the Petty Officer himself. Unfortunately, his fantasies of tackling his old partner to the ground and arresting him had come to an abrupt end when Gibbs had persuaded the Petty Officer's wife to admit to murder.

And he had not been happy to watch Marcus and Ziva flirting. She was clearly attracted to him, and Tony did not want to be the one to burst her bubble.

Finally, as she seemed ready to go, he decided he would tell her anyway.

"_Zee-vah_," he called, drawing her name out in the way he knew she disliked.

"What?" she called back.

"Marcus is an idiot," he told her. "A world-class pain in the backside."

She looked at him for a few moments before beginning to giggle. "You are jealous," she decided.

He returned her look, forcing himself to be serious. "I just don't want to see you get hurt," he replied. "I know Marcus and he is not good enough for you."

She sobered up and nodded. "Thank you for the warning," she offered. "If he does anything stupid, we can hurt him together."

He shot her a weak smile before she left. He knew this would go wrong. It was only a matter of time… and he was determined to be there for her when it did.


	2. May 2

_**May 2**_

**You can lean on a friendship on your road to success. You appreciate that friendship when your friend is happier about your success than you are.**

Palmer crossed the squad room, annoyed with himself for running late. He should have remembered about those roadworks…

Spotting Agent Gibbs' team hard at work, he bypassed their area. He did not want to get in their way and he definitely did not want to walk into the firing line of Agent Gibbs. He wanted to live for a good few years yet.

He found himself in the back elevator, wishing that it would hurry up so that he could reach Autopsy sooner. He was already trying to work out how to apologize to Ducky. Should he come straight out and give his excuses, or should he wait until after he had apologized? Should he even list his excuses? They weren't particularly good ones.

The elevator doors opened and he tried to step off, but ended up crashing into Abby instead. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't at Autopsy at all, but Abby's lab. He smiled apologetically and received a warm smile back, before finding himself in a bone-crushing hug.

"So?" she inquired, her face alight with curiosity.

"So what?" he asked, completely confused.

She punched his arm lightly. "Your exam! I thought you got your results this morning."

"I did," he recalled. "I got 90."

"That's great!" she squealed, launching herself at him again in delight.

He hadn't the heart to tell her that he wasn't so excited about it; he had many more to come soon. But he found himself smiling at her antics. He never seemed to appreciate Abby as much as he felt he should.


	3. May 3

_**May 3**_

**The door to a friend's heart (and closet!) is always open.**

"Wow."

Ziva spun around slowly, allowing Jenny to get the full effect of her dress. It was a stunning emerald green and ended just below her knees. She knew she looked good in it, and was happy that the redhead agreed.

She was all dressed up for an inter-agency ball. Jenny seemed to be arranging them more often, but the Israeli found them interesting. And it was always good to see Tony in a tux. The man should wear one more often, she felt.

It had taken her a while to find the perfect necklace for this dress. She had resorted to scurrying around a lot of little shops, determined to find something special. The necklace rested lightly on her sternum and brought out the color in her eyes.

The only problem had been shoes. She had been unable to locate a pair that finished her outfit off. Instead, she had resorted to an older pair that she owned, but she was not happy with them.

A familiar look came over Jenny's face.

Ziva smiled as Jenny left the room in a hurry. She knew the redhead had had an idea and she was curious.

A few minutes later, Jenny returned, a pair of heels in her hand.

"These should go perfectly with that," the redhead smiled.

Ziva giggled as she tried them on. Jenny was right. She was glad to have such a good friend.


	4. May 4

_**May 4**_

'**Tis Kindness to hold a Friend up by the Chin. – Jonathan Swift**

"No!" came the frantic squeal. "Help!"

Tony jumped off the elevator, reaching for his gun as he ran towards the lab. His senses were tingling. Abby was in danger. Must protect Abby. Gibbs would kill him if anything happened to her.

He charged into the lab, gun at the ready to shoot the evil intruder, slightly surprised that the Goth had not grabbed her nearest acid solution and tried to defend herself. And then he froze…

There was no one in the lab apart from Abby. Tears were running down her face and she did not seem to have noticed his arrival. He gave the place a quick sweep anyway, determined to catch any hidden intruder, but came up clean. Holstering his gun, he turned his attention to her.

She looked lost and alone, a little girl again. She still seemed unaware of his presence, and he was careful not to shock her as he moved towards her. He felt she was perfectly capable of screaming the building down, and Gibbs would shoot first, ask questions later.

"Hey, Abs," he smiled softly. "What's wrong?"

"Bert has disappeared," she wailed, launching herself into his arms. He held her tightly, ignoring the black mascara that was sure to stain. "He's been… Bert-napped!"

Tony privately couldn't understand why anyone would want to steal a farting stuffed hippo, but decided not to voice this. After all, she could kill him and leave no forensic evidence.

Instead, he nodded his head and rubbed her back. "Perhaps you misplaced him?" he offered.

She pulled back from him, her face screwed up in concentration. "I could have left him in the evidence garage," she conceded. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course," Tony soothed. He would do anything to make Abby happy again.

Short of making her a new farting hippo.


	5. May 5

_**May 5**_

**Those first five pounds; finally signing up for that class; actually having a free minute to read a book for fun: Life's little moments just seem more special when a friend is there to help celebrate.**

Tim sighed as he surveyed the piles of paperwork he needed to sort out. They had been incredibly busy for the past few weeks, leaving them with little time to sleep, let alone type up notes. Gibbs had generously told them to forget about paperwork for a while.

And now they had to catch up with it all. Five major investigations all needed to be dealt with. It wasn't as though Gibbs could grant them more time; JAG were breathing down their necks for the completed case files, afraid that the guilty would walk free.

Gibbs was sitting at his desk, only leaving to collect more coffee. Tim was fairly sure that the man had not slept in the last two days, so determined was he to get the job done. He hadn't even got the energy to growl at the others.

Tony was banging his head on his desk. As usual, his pile of paperwork was higher than everyone else's; a combination of him already owing paperwork from before their lives had become incredibly busy and the incredibly slow speed of his typing. For once, Tony had been knuckling down to work, seemingly terrified that he would never be able to leave the building before he finished the job.

And Ziva…

Tim stared at her. He knew that she had been doing paperwork at odd times during their investigations and it looked as though it had paid off. She had completely finished her work. Instead, she was leaning back in her seat, reading a book.

Deciding that he could afford to take a five minute break, Tim made his way over to her. She smiled at him as he approached. Tim was once again reminded that he could not sneak up on the assassin.

"Hey," he greeted her. "How are you?"

Her smiled grew wider. "I am finally free," she told him. "Now I have a little time to re-read my book."

Tim nodded. "I wish I could join you," he admitted.

She chuckled and he left to return to his paperwork. The minute he was done, he was going to join Ziva.


	6. May 6

_**May 6**_

**There is no one else I'd rather have with me on life's little escapades. You're my favorite partner in crime!**

Jenny resisted the urge to giggle as she crept down the stairs. She wasn't being particularly stealthy – it was very difficult in high heels and when everyone in the agency kept an eye out for her – but she did her best.

She was aware of just how stealthy the man next to her could be. Back when they were partners, Jethro had constantly appeared out of nowhere and she had gotten used to turning around to find him there. With a six year gap between them, her radar had become a little rusty.

She wasn't even sure why she was doing this. It was all Jethro's fault. It was 0645, they were probably the only two people mad enough to be at work so early, and he had told her about Tony's latest wager on them.

They had both laughed about it, until Gibbs suggested getting revenge on him. Jenny had not been able to resist the idea and had willingly handed over her superglue.

And so she found herself in the squad room. They reached Tony's desk, confident that they were the only people around. However, Jenny knew from bitter experience that people liked to show up at the worst possible times, so she appointed herself the role of lookout.

When Jethro was finished, he tugged her over to his desk. She perched on the edge, grinning at the thought of watching their plan come to fruition.

She did not have to wait long. The elevator dinged, disgorging Tony, Ziva and McGee. They stopped laughing when they spotted first Gibbs and then her. She watched as Tony stared at the two of them as though he was trying to determine something. He almost fell back into his chair while she continued to observe him.

She waited a good five minutes, feeling like a ghost. Gibbs ordered his team to pick up where they had left off the day before, leaving her to her own devices. After she felt confident that enough time had passed, she stood up and made her way to Tony's desk.

"I believe you may have sat in some superglue," she told him.

Tony immediately tried to stand up. She shot a grin at Jethro as Tony continued to struggle, before heading back to her office. She didn't think Tony would cross them for a little while…


	7. May 7

_**May 7**_

**Friendship is like two clocks keeping time. – Anonymous**

Ziva stood in the doorway, content to watch Ducky work. He was up to his elbows in a cadaver, chatting away about the beautiful weather he had woken up to.

She did not wish to disturb him. He seemed perfectly happy, even though he was on his own in a room with a dead body. He was in his element, except she did not know what the term actually meant. Tony used it often enough so she was confident she was using it correctly.

As though he knew she was observing him, Ducky turned around and smiled at her. It was a little disconcerting, mainly because his gloved hands were delving into someone's abdomen. But she smiled back before stepping into Autopsy.

Ducky removed the gloves from his hands and promptly set about making her a mug of tea. She knew better than to resist; he had placed her tea on her desk in the past, drawing a smirk from Gibbs. Instead, she settled on a chair he provided for her, placing the small box she had been guarding on the floor.

She waiting until she had finished drinking her tea before touching the box again. She pulled it onto her lap, opened it up carefully, and removed the gift within.

It was a beautifully hand-crafted wooden clock. It looked old and yet was in perfect condition.

"I saw this," she told him. "And I knew it would look perfect in your hallway."

The smile on his face told her that she was right. She was not sure what had compelled her to walk down that unfamiliar street, but the results were worth it.


	8. May 8

_**May 8**_

**A true friend may live in another state, or even another country, but is only a heartbeat away.**

Abby looked around her lab, slightly confused. This was definitely not normal.

Everything was working perfectly. Major Mass Spec was happily bubbling away, her computer was humming softly, and her latest DNA analysis needed to be left alone for another hour. She had no urgent evidence to review, no Gibbs charging in and demanding results, and no paperwork to catch up on. The sun was shining through her windows and everything was peaceful and quiet.

Taking advantage of the moment, she reached for her phone, determined to talk to an old friend. It took her a moment longer than she liked to recall the area code for Louisiana.

She didn't talk to Megan as often as she wanted to, but she made sure to keep in touch. They had grown up next door to each other and were closer than sisters. Nowadays, most of their communication was via email; they both lived at work.

While Abby had followed her heart into forensics, Megan had ended up in the pharmaceutical industry. She had always wanted to be at the centre of cutting edge research.

Abby smiled to herself as the phone rang. And rang and rang…

"Megan's lab, Megan speaking," came the jovial voice on the other end.

"Megan!" Abby squealed. "It's Abby! How are you?"

"Abby, it's so good to speak to you," came the reply. "I'm great. How are you?" And how is that gorgeous Timothy McGee?"

"I'm on top of the world. Timmy's good too, but he's out in the field at the moment. Do you know something I don't? Oh no, he's dead in a ditch somewhere –"

Chuckling reached her ears. "Same old Abby," Megan noted. "Nothing's changed."

Abby smiled happily. Everything was right with the world.


	9. May 9

_**May 9**_

**Our dearest friends shall invariably speak of us as though they were blind to all our faults, but keenly alive to every shade of our virtues. – Anthony Trollope, **_**Barchester Towers**_

Ducky did not look up as the doors to Autopsy swished open. He knew it could only be one person, and that person would talk in his own time.

Instead, he focused on completing the paperwork for his latest guest. He did not like children crossing his table, although he was not sure his guest was much of a child. He had been seventeen, killed both of his parents for the inheritance, and had tried to kill his much younger sister when she had threatened to tell the truth. Only Anthony's quick actions had saved her life, but he had been forced to kill the brother.

Understandably, Anthony was now taking it badly. And others were starting to worry about him too.

He heard his friend approach and he remained silent.

Behind him, Jethro began to talk. "Tony still thinks there was a chance he could have taken out that kid without killing him."

Ducky sighed. "Anthony is a fine agent and I am sure he took the best option available to him," he replied. "He is experienced and he knows what he is doing."

"I know," Gibbs muttered.

Ducky turned around to face his friend. "Have you told him that?" he inquired. "He takes what you say very seriously and it would mean a lot to him."

Gibbs seemed to consider it for a moment, before nodding his head and walking out.

Ducky smiled to himself. Anthony might need a helping hand, but he would be back to his best in no time.


	10. May 10

_**May 10**_

**When you have to talk, you can call a girlfriend way too late at night and long before she's had her morning coffee.**

Ziva dialed the number, her fingers moving slowly after her long day. It was disturbingly early in the morning, but she knew her friend would answer.

"Shepard."

From the sound of it, she had woken Jenny up. Sleep clouded the redhead's voice even though she had answered rapidly. Presumably, Jenny was used to urgent phone calls at odd hours.

"It is me," she replied. "Ziva. I am sorry to have disturbed you."

"It's not a problem," came the voice form the phone. From the fumbling in the background, Ziva suspected that her friend was turning on a light and getting settled. "How can I help?"

"This is stupid," she decided. "Go back to sleep. We can talk in the morning."

"I doubt you would have called me if you didn't need to talk now," Jenny deduced.

Ziva sighed. Jenny knew her too well. "I may have broken someone's wrist," she admitted. "We went on a date earlier and he was a little feely-touchy."

"Touchy-feely," Jenny corrected automatically. Ziva did not mind; she constantly corrected Jenny's Hebrew.

She sighed again. "I was not comfortable with him."

"I don't think he's going to be so fast to feel any other woman up," Jenny chuckled.

The Israeli smiled. "Do I just attract strange men?" she wondered.

"You have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince," Jenny advised. "Breaking a few wrists along the way is permitted."

Ziva laughed. "Thank you. I will let you go back to sleep."

"I need coffee," the redhead complained.

Ziva smiled as she disconnected the call. Jenny was available whenever she needed her.


	11. May 11

_**May 11**_

**If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it. – William Shakespeare, **_**Othello**_

Tony stared at the Goth. "No," he insisted.

She glared at him, placing her hands on her hips. He took an involuntary step back, afraid of what she might do to him. She looked furious. "Tony," she growled.

"Abs," he whimpered. "I value my life."

She cocked her head to one side for a moment. And then she changed tack and pouted. "Please Tony? For me?"

He wanted nothing more than to run out of the lab and never return. He couldn't resist her like this and she knew it. She had deliberately turned her music down, leaving the soft humming of her machines, so that he could not lose himself in the pounding beat.

"Please Tony?" she repeated.

"He'll kill me!" he protested. "You do it."

She shook her head firmly. "I won't have the opportunity," she argued. "It would look suspicious if I hung around his desk. But _you _are up there all the time."

"So he'll automatically suspect me," he pointed out. "He'll never think it was you."

She glared at him again, switching tactics. "Tony! For me!"

"I am not slipping laxatives into Gibbs' coffee," he pronounced. "He will kill me. Slowly and painfully. In a way known only to Marines. And then he would get you to dispose of my body."

Abby giggled. "But it would be fun!"

Rolling his eyes, he found himself falling for her charms. "I'll do it," he decided. She was his friend after all.


	12. May 12

_**May 12**_

**But friendship is a word the very sight of which in print makes the heart warm. – Augustine Birrell**

Gibbs sat in his basement, a glass of bourbon in one hand and a book in another.

Placing the bourbon down, he concentrated on the book. It was hardback and had a familiar cover. Clearly McGee had used the same person for the cover design of his two books.

Although he would never admit it, he had been anxiously awaiting the release of Rock Hollow. McGee was a good author and Gibbs did read other books. Not that he advertised it; it wasn't in his nature. Knowing that the characters in the book were based on him and his team made him intrigued. He enjoyed seeing his team through McGee's eyes.

Agent Tommy was definitely spot on. Tony's desires for women, fast cars and catching bad guys were captured perfectly on paper. As were his cat and mouse games with Ziva, each of them dodging their feelings. Ziva's cold outer shell, a woman unsure of how to understand emotions, was written with great care.

Yet both of his agents chose to argue with McGee over their portrayals. He felt flattered that one of his agents regarded him highly enough to immortalize him on paper.

It felt strange to see himself – or rather LJ Tibbs – through different eyes. But it was also amusing and scarily accurate. McGee had clearly got inside his head.

As he began the book, he found himself smiling. McGee had dedicated his latest book to his friends.

'_For Agent Tommy, Officer Lisa, Forensic Specialist Amy, 'Fishy', Pimmy Jalmer, Director Guinevere Tipford and LJ Tibbs. The best friends I could ask for.'_


	13. May 13

_**May 13**_

**That friendship may be at once fond and lasting, there must not only be equal virtue on each part, but virtue of the same kind. – Samuel Johnson**

Gibbs knocked firmly on the door. He was thoroughly confused. Since when did Jenny call him and demand he come up to her office? Usually she simply started shouting at him the minute she encountered him.

And if he was off guard, he was determined to make her off guard. Just a little. She was so used to him barging into her office that knocking and waiting would hopefully shock her.

Deliberately waiting until she called for him to enter, he hid a grin at the look of surprise on her face before dragging a chair to her desk and sitting down. She did not look as though she planned to shout at him; he could see a very familiar-looking twinkle in her eyes. One that usually meant he was about to be teased. He had a sudden feeling he knew why he had been summoned.

To her credit, she recovered her poise, finishing an email on purpose before returning her attention to him. Again, he was forced to hide a grin at their little games. She knew just how to wind him up and vice versa.

There was a smirk on her face as she spoke. "I heard from a little bird that you gave your favorite NCIS cap to a child today."

DiNozzo. He would bet any money that DiNozzo had told everyone.

"Rather virtuous, wasn't it?" she continued.

He smirked back at her. "What do you know about virtue?" he replied.

The smirk on her face turned into a grin. "Get a dictionary," she advised.

He stood up to leave. "Not sure how giving a kid my cap gives me the moral high ground," he pointed out, enjoying the second look of surprise to cross her face in a few minutes.

He left rapidly, determined to have the last word. He knew this conversation would continue, but he had won round one.


	14. May 14

_**May 14**_

**Building a friendship is like learning to dance. You take small, easy steps at first, then gradually add new ones until it becomes comfortable and familiar.**

Ziva put her hands on her hips and glared at McGee. This was not going well.

In an effort to impress a certain Goth, McGee had decided that he wanted to learn how to dance. It appeared to have been a lifelong dream of his, and once Ziva had learnt of it, she had offered to help him. She enjoyed dancing and felt she could teach McGee well.

But she had not counted on McGee's perfectionist streak. He was becoming more and more frustrated at himself, while she tried to reassure him that he was doing very well for a beginner.

It did not help that she was emotionally invested in this. She wanted McGee to do well; she wanted him to impress Abby at the next inter-agency ball. She knew that her two friends would be perfect together, and her carefully hidden romantic side couldn't resist helping them in some way. She wanted them to be happy.

She hid a smirk as McGee withered under her glare. "Calm down," she ordered. "You are not helping yourself."

"Sorry," McGee replied. "I think I've got two left feet."

She stared at him, confused. "You do not have two left feet," she told him.

He shook his head. "Never mind," he smiled. "Can we try the last bit again? Maybe a little slower."

She smiled back. "Okay. Put your left foot here, now pivot…"

They continued their dance around the otherwise empty NCIS gym, each content with their actions.


	15. May 15

_**May 15**_

**Things that are even better when done with a friend: manicures and pedicures.**

Tim chuckled as he looked across at Abby.

This had all been her idea. She knew of his trips for manicures, and had decided to tag along to see what all the fuss was about. Naturally, she had decided to give it a go and was enjoying the pampering.

It was nice to relax with her. Although they were polar opposites in some regards, they got on very well. They both worked disturbingly long hours and took every opportunity to enjoy themselves outside of the Navy Yard. And if they could do it together, it made the experience even more worthwhile.

He caught the smile she sent his way and returned it. This was very nice.

"We should do this again," she decided, even though she had yet to finish this time.

"Evening's not over yet," he pointed out. "We could see a movie or find somewhere nice for dinner."

"There aren't any decent movies on at the moment," she whined.

"Well, I know a beautiful little restaurant a few blocks from here," he admitted. "It does a better macaroni cheese than my mother."

Abby's eyes lit up. "You'd better not tell her that," she smirked.

"It's true," he replied. "I've begged them to give me the recipe to no avail."

"Bet I could get it," Abby offered. "Twenty bucks."

He considered his options. He would be happy to lose to get that recipe. "Deal," he smiled.


	16. May 16

_**May 16**_

**Friendship is a magical vehicle in which two distinct souls journey together to different destinations.**

"Slow down!" Tony found himself yelling at the top of his lungs. "I want to survive!"

Across from him, in the driver's seat, Ziva grinned. "But Gibbs ordered us to interview this witness and not waste our time," she recalled. "And he gave _me _the keys."

"Because you were standing right next to him," Tony added. "I was with Abby, helping her to fix Major Mass Spec."

"You do not even know how the Major works," Ziva pointed out. "Why would Abby require your help?"

"Mind the old lady!" Tony screamed, breathing a sigh of relief when his partner swerved. He bit back his panic as he realized she had swerved into the path of a massive truck. "Please, Ziva. I'm begging you. Pull over and let me drive."

"Are you afraid of my driving?" she inquired, turning her head to look at him.

"Watch the road," he ordered, happy when she did as he demanded. "You are… not my first choice of driver."

"I am merely giving you the chance to rest before we talk to this witness," she stated. "What is the problem?"

"Do you even have a driving license?" he wondered, breathing more easily as she pulled the car over to the side of the road. "I've never been so happy to get out of a car."

She punched him, causing a whimper to escape his lips. "Grow up," she advised, before stepping out of the car.

Taking a deep breath, he followed her. With a bit of luck, she would allow him to drive back.


	17. May 17

_**May 17**_

**Let the soul be assured that somewhere in the universe it should rejoin its friend, and it would be content and cheerful alone for a thousand years. – Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Friendship"**

The first night he saw her again since Paris, Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat in his basement and mused on the enigma that was Jennifer Shepard.

He had always known that she would reappear in his life; after all, NCIS was a small agency. It had also been clear to him that she would go far; her desire to learn had been one of the first things he had noticed about her.

Seeing her again had raised conflicting emotions within him. He hated her for having walked out on him, yet he was filled with pride at her achievement. He was upset that she appeared to have moved on so easily without him, yet he was pleased that there was no ring on her finger. He was bitter about her now being his boss, yet happy that she was alive and had not been killed on a subsequent operation.

He had always clung to the hope that they would be reunited in some way at some point in the future, but had never expected it to be like this. Still, it felt like the culmination of all his hopes and had raised his spirits. It was as though her leaving him had flicked a switch and plunged him into darkness, and her reappearance in MTAC had flicked the switch again to bring light back into his life.

He smiled softly as he sipped his bourbon. Now that she was back, he could start building bridges. He wasn't going to let her walk all over him, but they could definitely have something.


	18. May 18

_**May 18**_

**Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend. – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow**

Abby smiled as Ducky slipped his hand into hers. The steep hill was incredibly slippery when it was wet, and she didn't want her friend to become hurt. It would be too much for her to bear.

She adored Ducky. He was like a grandfather to her, albeit an eccentric English one. He spoiled her rotten and told her delightful stories of his own youth. He treated her in the form of new goodies to analyze and comforted her when she was upset.

He was the most charming man she had ever met, and she had met a few. His wit and demeanor always made her smile. She loved the way he was always dressed formally, especially his bow tie. And she adored the way he wore his bow tie under his official medical examiner outfit.

He was so kind and gentle, with oodles of patience. He could keep a secret better than most, even from Tony's prying nose.

She had always thought of him as courageous, prepared to stand up for what he believed was the right thing. She supposed it had something to do with his gentlemanly upbringing. He had a beautiful twinkle in his eye and was such a good listener. He listened to everyone without passing judgment.

He slipped slightly and she caught hold of his arm to prevent him from falling over. He gave her a wide smile, which she happily returned. She did not know what she would do if anything happened to her Ducky.


	19. May 19

_**May 19**_

**Here's to many future adventures together!**

Jenny grinned as Gibbs tapped his glass of bourbon against hers. She knew exactly what he meant by it.

With his team dispatched to interview a variety of suspects, Gibbs had decided that she could be his backup when he stormed a house. Of course he hadn't put it in those terms, but forcibly dragged her from MTAC instead.

She had enjoyed being back in the field again. She had even had the opportunity to chase a suspect and tackle him to the ground, which had led to her being covered in mud when he had continued to resist arrest. The look on Jethro's face when he found her with an unconscious suspect had made her laugh.

Occasionally she missed their old adventures. She missed the adrenaline rushes, the surviving on caffeine only and the sheer excitement of it all. And then she remembered the dry-cleaning bills, the bruises that ended up all over her body and the constant desire for sleep. At least the hours were fairly regular when she was behind a desk.

Still, she enjoyed it when Jethro gave her the chance to go back into the field. They had always worked well together and it was clear that they continued to do so. And it showed her that he trusted her.

She allowed the amber liquid to slide down her throat. Hopefully they would have another adventure soon.


	20. May 20

_**May 20**_

**A friend makes you complete inside. A balance is achieved from two viewpoints, two backgrounds, two hearts.**

Tim McGee had no idea why he got on so well with one Abby Scuito.

On paper, they should never have met. She was from Louisiana, with two deaf parents and a rebellious streak. He was from New York, still with two parents but also with a little sister. He played by the rules and the rules only, excluding the odd illegal hack.

She was obsessed with forensics, understanding her field better than anyone. She lived and breathed for her results. He was obsessed with computers, to the stage where there was little he could not coax a machine to do. If he had to do without his cell phone for two minutes, he would lapse into catatonic schizophrenia.

She had multiple tattoos, loved her rock music nice and loud, partied all night and slept in a coffin. And she was addicted to Caf-Pows. He had a single tattoo, only because of her, loved quiet jazz music, wrote all night and slept in a beautiful double bed. And he relied on coffee to get him through the day.

Yet somehow, against all the odds, they had met each other and clicked. They worked as one together, seamlessly. They pooled their thoughts, energy and determination, making a formidable team.

He smiled as he watched her hard at work in her lab. He was proud to call her his friend.


	21. May 21

_**May 21**_

**We must love our friends as true amateurs love paintings; they have their eyes perpetually fixed on the fine parts and see no others. – Madame d'Epinay**

"An art gallery?" Tony found himself whining. "Why? Can't we just go to the movies like normal people?"

His partner glared at him. "I can kill you eighteen different ways with a paperclip," she pointed out. "Would you like to rephrase your question?"

He gulped. His ninja Mossad chick scared him sometimes. "I was thinking that this is more the Probie's thing. Why didn't you ask him to come along with you?"

She caught his arm and dragged him onwards. "Because you need refining! Besides, McGee and I came here last week."

"Why didn't I hear of this?" he inquired, somehow managing to keep his voice level as a woman smaller than him forced him to a spot in front of a painting.

"It might have had something to do with you rooking about your latest conquest," she noted dryly.

He reached for his mental English-Ziva Ziva-English dictionary. "Crowing, not rooking," he corrected. "They're both big black birds, I'll give you that."

"Can you tell them apart?" she inquired.

"Nope, no one can," he joked. Catching sight of the look on her face, he became more serious. "Except intelligent people who pay attention to those kinds of things."

There was a smirk on her face when she replied. "Better."

"Best?" he offered.

"Not best," she decided. "Now, stop talking and look at the painting."


	22. May 22

_**May 22**_

**Our most intimate friend is not he to whom we show the worst, but the best of our nature. – Nathaniel Hawthorne**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs observed the autopsy in silence. He didn't really need to be here, but Ducky had been his own assistant for a long and grueling day, and his friend needed the company.

He had always thought that an autopsy destroyed the last shreds of secrecy a murder victim had. After all, he and his team were prying into every aspect of the victim's life, while Ducky pried into the death. Everything was laid bare, both to the investigators and later the jury.

Yet Ducky was the one person he would feel comfortable performing his own autopsy. His old friend clearly cared for his guests; talking to them, telling them detailed exploits of his youth, and generally acting as though they were still alive. It made him smile to watch.

"Could you pass me that evidence jar?" Ducky requested, his eyes never leaving PFC Amos in front of him. "I appear to have something that would interest Abigail in here."

Gibbs obediently collected a jar and brought it to his friend's side.

"Many thanks," Ducky smiled as he deposited the metal shred. "Would you mind –"

"Not at all, Duck," he answered, heading towards the elevator. Just like Ducky, Abby would appreciate his visit.


	23. May 23

_**May 23**_

**A constant friend is a thing rare and hard to find. – Plutarch**

"Chocolate cake, party poppers, balloons… Do you think we should hire a stripper?"

Abby looked deep into McGee's eyes, willing him to agree with her.

"Why would we need a stripper?" McGee wondered. "I thought Tony's birthday was next month."

She glared at him. "This isn't for Tony. It's for us!"

"And why would we need a stripper?" he inquired, a completely confused look on his face.

"Because we need to celebrate! We broke the case!"

"After being up for fifty hours straight," McGee complained. "I'd prefer more sleep."

The Goth scowled. "We found the crucial evidence on a hard drive that had been wiped clean seven times," she pointed out. "It's impossible! Well, at least it was very hard to find."

"Surely we should just be glad that we cracked the case," McGee commented. "And refined our skills in the process."

"Do you want some chocolate cake?" she queried, enjoying the twinkle in his eyes.

"Of course," he answered.

"Then answer the question. Should we hire a stripper?"

"No," he decided. "But we could play a prank on Tony instead."

Her mind started to whir. "I like it," she grinned. "We could hack into his computer and cause havoc."

McGee grinned back. "I have his bank details."

They continued to smile as they set to work, only pausing for more cake.


	24. May 24

_**May 24**_

**My friends are my estate. – Emily Dickinson**

Ducky groaned as he chased Contessa back into his house. Why did she always find it amusing to run outside when he tried to lock up for the night?

He loved his house; he had lived there for many years. His mother adored the place too, even if she could no longer get up the stairs. It was familiar, friendly and cozy. He couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

He had purchased it when he had first arrived in America, and it had been his base while he worked out how to get by in an unfamiliar yet strangely similar word. He couldn't dream of selling the place, not after all this time.

It was filled to the brim with objects from his travels, as well as gifts from his friends. It truly was where he considered his home to be.

Contessa made another dash for the door and he was forced to follow her out. Damn dog. Wily and resourceful. He sometimes wondered whether Contessa was a dog version of his mother. If he wasn't returning Contessa to the great indoors, he was doing the same to his mother.

Why did he have so many dogs anyway? Most of them were his mother's, but he was the one who looked after them. At least he had managed to persuade her that they didn't need any more for the moment.

Finally, he managed to chase Contessa inside before he locked the door.

"Donald?" came a familiar voice. "Why are you still up?"

"Go back to sleep, Mother," he ordered. He frowned at Contessa. "Do you two gang up on me on purpose?" he inquired.


	25. May 25

_**May 25**_

**A friend knows when it's time to help you stay on your diet and when it's time to sit down together with a pint of ice cream. A best friend knows when it's time to bring on a gallon.**

Jenny wanted to ignore the knock at her front door. Her day had been awful, filled with arguments with politicians, an order from SecNav that she disagreed with but had to follow, and a quick exit from her office when a pipe had burst.

A pipe that was situated directly over her chair, thus soaking her to the skin minutes before a briefing with her senior agents.

All in all, she'd had better days. And now all she wanted to do was deal with her remaining paperwork before crawling into bed. Tomorrow would be another day, and it would be better than this one.

She almost screamed at the insistent knocking. Flinging open the door, she prepared to give her visitor a piece of her mind…

But she froze.

Standing outside her front door was one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. His hands held ice cream tubs and what looked like it could be a DVD case.

"Well?" he questioned. "Are you going to let me in?"

She stood aside to let him pass, relieving him of the DVD. She was surprised to find it was _Bridget Jones_, something she had never expected to see in the possession of the ex-marine.

"Coffee," he pointed at the first tub of ice cream. "Vanilla, chocolate and strawberry." He indicated the others in turn. "Didn't know what you were in the mood for and what you already had."

"I have paperwork." Even to her own ears, her protest sounded half-hearted.

"How do you work your DVD player?" he demanded, ignoring her previous comment and heading into her lounge.

She smiled as she followed him. She was going to enjoy this.


	26. May 26

_**May 26**_

**A friend is someone who listens to your dreams, challenges your fears, cares for your feelings, and forgives your shortcomings.**

Ziva glared at Tony across the squad room. How dare he bring that up! For the third time in five minutes as well!

"You really are a screamer," her soon-to-be deceased partner smirked. "You scared the poor Probie with that scream. Took ten years off his McLife."

"Shut up," she snapped at him. "I saw a butterfly."

"And our great ninja Mossad assassin is terrified of butterflies," he continued. "I thought you were fearless."

"Everyone is afraid of something," she defended. "What do you have a phobia of?"

"This is not about me," he countered. "It's about you."

"Vampires," McGee added. "Tony's scared of vampires."

Ziva grinned at the look that appeared on Tony's face. "I thought vampires were great seducers," she remarked. "I cannot understand how you are afraid of them."

"What's the Probie scared of?" Tony asked, determined to take the spotlight away from him.

"Failure," McGee instantly answered. "I'm scared to fail."

Tony snorted. "How can you be scared of an abstract thing?" he queried.

"I think it is the sign of a good person," Ziva decided. "You are one to talk; you are afraid of a creature that does not exist."

"And you are scared of flying insects," Tony growled. "McScaredypants is the loser here."

"Butterflies aren't –"

"Can it, Probie," Tony ordered.

The whole team glared at each other.

"So good to know I can leave you unsupervised for ten minutes," Gibbs noted sarcastically as he appeared.

Tony rolled his eyes before hissing his question to Ziva. "What's Gibbs afraid of then?"


	27. May 27

_**May 27**_

**A friend should bear his friend's infirmities. – William Shakespeare, **_**Julius Caesar**_

Tim McGee groaned as he heard a knocking at the door. He didn't want Tony's company right now. He was ill, fighting a raging fever, and just wanted to be left alone.

Naturally, Tony couldn't leave him alone and had been calling every five minutes. The phone calls had only stopped when Gibbs had found out about them.

Abby had called a few times, when she wasn't up to her ears in forensic work. She had also managed to bring him takeout for lunch every day, something which had cheered Tim up immensely.

A scratching at the door was the only warning before it opened. But to his surprise, it was not Tony.

Ziva stood in the doorway, a paper bag in her hand. "Good evening, Tim," she smiled.

"Hi," he managed to get out. He watched as she disappeared into his kitchen.

"Where do you keep your chopping board?" she called, out of sight.

"Bottom cupboard on the left," he replied.

After a while, the delicious smells from the kitchen made Tim ask his question.

"Why did you knock if you planned to pick the lock?"

Ziva's head popped out from his kitchen. "To give you a warning," she answered.

He nodded in understanding, happy that she cared about him that much.

"Food," she announced.

His eyes lit up as he took in the soup. "Thanks," he grinned.


	28. May 28

_**May 28**_

**To like and dislike the same things, that is indeed true friendship. – Sallust**

"Wow," Palmer gasped.

Ducky looked over at his assistant. "I am inclined to agree, Mr. Palmer, but we need to keep our cool over this."

"I'm sorry, doctor," Palmer replied. "It's just so amazing. I've never seen anything like this before."

Ducky felt the same way. It wasn't very often that he ended up with a PFC on his table with a stake through his heart. From the discussion he had heard in the squad room, a group of very impressionable new marines had decided that PFC Rogers was a vampire, and the only way to get rid of him was with a wooden stake.

"Do you think he really was a vampire?" Palmer asked.

"I do not believe in the so-called creatures of the night," Ducky declared. "But it seems that our marines did. Still, it should be easy to determine a cause of death."

"The stake that's still piercing his heart?" Palmer suggested, almost bouncing around the room in his excitement.

Ducky understood how he felt, but was determined to keep a lid on his own excitement. "No," he declared. "Shock, my dear boy. Shock would have killed him before he bled out."

"Oh." The previous statement seemed to bring Palmer down to earth. "Where should we start then?"

Ducky just looked at him.

"We approach this as normal," Palmer concluded.

"Calm down," Ducky advised. "We need to focus as we do this."

He smiled to himself as his protégé relaxed. This would be an interesting autopsy.


	29. May 29

_**May 29**_

**True friendship is a plant of growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation. – George Washington**

Tony peered intently at the plant on McGee's desk. Hmm. Not a big surprise. The Probie was extremely predictable at times.

Abby had come up with the idea of them all having little plants on their desks – something for them to look after. Gibbs' plant had mysteriously vanished within hours and Tony had seen it down in Autopsy, in the care of Ducky.

Thankfully, Abby had allowed them to choose which plants they wanted. And the Probie's choice was laughable.

"Step away from my desk," McGee ordered, reappearing from the direction of Abby's lab. "What were you playing with?"

"Nothing, Probie," Tony replied. "Just admiring your Japanese peace lily."

McGee scowled. "Stay away from it," he warned.

"I can't help it," Tony grinned. "It's so green and I love the rubbery feeling. Did you know that it appeared in the fantastic movie _Hot Fuzz_?"

"No," McGee answered. "And I don't care."

Tony continued to stare at the plant. "You're going to kill this thing, Probie," he smirked. "You don't have green fingers, McKiller."

McGee was nonplussed. "This is coming from the guy who's got a cactus on his desk because he can't look after anything else."

Tony glared at him. "I chose a cactus because I don't want anyone else to touch my plant," he growled.

"Keep telling yourself that," McGee remarked.

They both turned their gaze to Ziva's desk where a small Venus Fly Trap lived. "I can't explain that," Tony admitted. "Except it makes some kind of sense for our little assassin to have a plant that kills."

They looked at each other and silently agreed. Now all they had to do was keep their plants alive.


	30. May 30

_**May 30**_

**It's not important how girlfriends met or where they come from; it's the places they go together that matter.**

Jenny found herself laughing as she walked down a street in New York City, Ziva on one arm and Abby on another. With a weekend off, they had decided to spend some girly time together, fed up of the testosterone that filled their days.

Abby had initially suggested going to Louisiana, which had been shot down after Jenny had gently pointed out that the trip was better taken when they had more time off.

Ziva had gone one further and suggested Las Vegas, presumably because she wanted to make a little money. The redhead privately also felt that her two girlfriends would get drunk and marry the first man they came across. Although she was fairly sure she would join in, especially when she thought about her age.

Abby squealed as she spotted a shoe store and she dragged the others in. Jenny couldn't resist smiling; the Goth's enthusiasm was infectious. The younger woman stared happily at the platform boots, while Ziva headed over to an area with boots, all of which were reduced in a sale.

Shrugging, Jenny hunted for some new stilettos. She could do with a new pair after breaking a heel the other day. It wasn't her fault if a Senator who seemed to have problems keeping his hands to himself had snuck up behind her, and the fact that her heel had gone through his foot could not be attributed to her.

Even if she had later learnt that Ziva had slit the tires on his prized Ferrari, and Abby had managed to spike his drink with a chemical that would leave him impotent for a week.

What were friends for?

They emerged from the store a few hours later, laden with more bags. Jenny found herself giggling again. They would have to do this again soon.


	31. May 31

_**May 31**_

**Girlfriends offer the wonderful gift of perspective.**

Abby beamed as she heard the elevator ding. A visitor! She loved having visitors, being a person who craved attention.

She whirled as footsteps approached and was surprised to find Ziva entering. She froze for a moment. The Israeli looked upset about something; her shoulders were slumped and her head hung lower than normal. She looked tired as well.

Abby pulled her friend into a bone-crushing hug, not happy that Ziva immediately tensed up. But after a few seconds, she began to relax and hug her back.

"What's wrong?" Abby demanded, pulling back but still holding onto her friend.

The Israeli sighed. "It is nothing."

Abby did her best impression of a Gibbs glare. She had been practicing for many years, knowing that Gibbs could scare anyone. Generally, she preferred pouting to get her way. However she was fairly sure that this wouldn't work on Ziva.

The Israeli caved. "I was supposed to meet a guy last night for a date."

Abby squealed. "Was it Mark? Because he was so nice and hunky!" The look on Ziva's face stopped her before she could ramble on any further. "What's wrong?"

"I agree, Abby. I thought he was nice. And I was happy to go on a date with him."

"But?" Abby prompted.

Ziva sighed again. "He never showed."

"He stood you up?" Abby spluttered. "He's insane! We should track him down and make him suffer."

Ziva giggled.

Abby pulled her back into a hug. "Mark's an idiot. I'm sure I can find someone better for you." She could think of someone closer to home…


End file.
